


My Skeleton

by we_he_she_wumbo



Category: OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes
Genre: Bearbones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 04:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20558216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_he_she_wumbo/pseuds/we_he_she_wumbo
Summary: A Real Magic Skeleton has a nightmare, and luckily, he has his bear by his side.This fic has concepts of claustrophobia, suffocation, anxiety attacks, death of a loved one, inexplicable red ooze, and swears, so please don't read this fic if you have any problems with the topics above. Safe travels.





	My Skeleton

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is the first bbones fic since 2017 which, in my eyes, is completely unacceptable, so here you go. This is my first "real" fic, so sorry to future me for writing hot shit.

He was standing on the edge of a long square of padded dirt, staring at the title that the tombstone bore. It happened too fast. Everything happened too fast. His funeral, the grieving, the healing, it was just too quick. RMS bent down, as if seeing eye-to-eye with the stone. Yes, that’s his name alright. The same name he uttered in exasperation for years on end, the same name he muttered lovingly in the night, the same name that made his voice cracked after his passing. 

He noticed that his hands were shaking when placing down the flowers, for he was still competitively staring at the tombstone, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. Why did he leave? Why? So many people loved him, so many people, please, I loved him, and he left-

He couldn’t block the sob out any longer. Quickly, as if he was humiliated by the thought of emotion, RMS shielded his eyes with his hands, for no real purpose whatsoever. Just then, he felt a touch along his foot. Was it an animal? It felt alive… 

Silently uncovering his eyes, wiping them in the process, he inquired down, which resulted in his utter despair to be converted into rapid horror. A skeleton hand, just like his, placed their phalanges on the tip of his boot, not gripping it, not tapping it, but laying the fingers of the bone gently on there, in a terrifyingly consoling manner. He yelped, trying to escape, when another hand hatched out of the ground, gripping his wrist in a deliberate and desperate manner, dragging him downwards. RMS tried to run once more, but found it frighteningly hard under the pressure of another hand dragging his other wrist, too. The ground opened, momentarily only bringing darkness to his vision, and, when his vision resettled, he saw the ghastly face of a skull, just like his, but a bear one, just like his, in a coffin, just like RMS did… 

“No, no-” He tried to struggle, only finding his surroundings to be airtight, cramped, and almost lonely. The skeleton-bear, still dead, gripping RMS’ wrists once more, brought them closer to himself. He struggled in shock-filled terror, hearing the echoes of his beloved one calling out, 

“You left me, you left me to rot-”  
“Please, I didn’t want to,” RMS bargained, “I didn’t want to say goodbye-”  
“Fucking idiot.”

RMS felt his breath shortening while trying to struggle out of the death-lock of a grip. A redness started to ooze, starting from the bottom, slowly working its way to the top, just as all things do. “No, no, please, Brandon, I didn’t want this to happen to you, please- ” Hyperventilation was picking up its pace when RMS realized he wasn’t able to escape. “Please,” he started to sob, not being able to register the other’s boney hand being placed on his shoulder, not being able to register the other calling out his name. The ooze, sticking to the side of the walls, made its way up to a point where RMS was struggling to keep his head above it, who was silently whimpering to himself, trying and failing to use magic to escape. The red guk was thick, sticky, and smelling terrible as it finally crept to a point where RMS was no longer able to fight it. Red confined him, as it made evident that magic was impossible, nothing could help him find his way out, nothing, oh god-

Suddenly, he could breathe again, and he took advantage of it by breathing in shallow, messy breaths. He must’ve been upright, staring down, leaning against something. Slowly, reality crept back, letting him realize he was leaning against something furry and scared, who was rubbing his paw in circles on RMS’ back. He could’ve sworn he heard something, too, someone was whispering kind, reassuring words by his skull, who still sounded positively frightened. It was still so much of a shock for him, that, when trying to sit upright on his own, only to be returned to an even tighter embrace with shushing noises, he must’ve begun to sob, quietly, into the others’ ear. 

“Hey, hey, shh, it’s ok, I got you, it’s ok…”  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”  
“Shh shh… it’s ok, you’re safe, you’re safe… relax…” 

A dream? Really, that was all a dream? Did a dream really scare him that much? It must’ve, due to the fact that they continued in that position until the sun rose. With the aid of light, he was able to see the previously unknown damage he did to the lamp above his head when he was sleeping. The lampshade looked charred, crumpled, and carelessly thrown to the floor, meanwhile the metal stand looked just as bent, busted, and bruised. RMS looked at the couch’s cushions in shame, remembering why he was on a couch. This wasn’t even his apartment, this was Brandon’s house, and they were airing a movie, one of their favorites, so they decided to watch it together. RMS tugged out of his comforter’s reach and examined the lamp, frowning at himself. 

“Listen, it’s ok, dude, I didn’t even care about that lamp anyways. It was ugly as hell.”  
“... Didn’t your mom buy it?” He inquired apprehensively, already knowing the answer as he placed the lamp stand back down.  
“Well… y-yeah, but it didn’t mean that much to us anyways. Who cares.” 

That was a lie, RMS thought to himself, knowing how much of a soft spot Brandon’s mom was for him. He apologized, and got up under the weight of guilt, letting his bones snap and pop in the process. He felt a large paw slip into his hand, as if saying there isn’t any need for apologies, and he gladly returned the gesture. 

“Come on dude, let me do all the work today, I bet you gotta be tired.”  
“Wait, is today Monday? Augh, shit, that just made my day a hundred times worse…”   
The large paw guided him back down to the couch, laying him down on his stomach, and rubbing his shoulders.   
“... Dooo you wanna take a sick day or something?”  
“No, I can’t do that, I have to be there… I have a feeling if I’m gonna take a sick day, then you are, too, leading Efram to be the bitchiest cuck-  
“Whoa, language~” He saw a toothy grin out of the corner of his eye following that remark. 

“Come on, you know it’s true.” He turned on his back, feeling pats of reassurance follow on both cheekbones. There was silence for a few moments. RMS looked at his bear’s face, seeing the undeniable expression of wanting to say something, but not know how to say it. He placed his own tiny hands on the other’s large paws, which were now resting on his cheeks, and asked, “What’s wrong?” 

“Pfft, you’re gonna get mad at me.”  
“No, please tell me, I want to know.”   
“You’re gonna feel bad.”  
“Stop assuming and just ask me, Brandon.”

He saw the other puff, retracting his hands, allowing for the other to sit upright. The bear stared down for a moment, as RMS patiently waited, leaning against a pillow. 

“... What was your nightmare about, man?”  
“What?”  
“Your nightmare. The one you had last night. You- I don’t know what was really happening, but you sounded pertified.”   
“‘Petrified’? Nyeh, I didn’t even know you knew that word… what happened?”  
“Alright, I- I woke up, cuz you were laying on me, and you were just talking to yourself, and moving all around, so I tried to wake you up, but that seemed to make you more scared, maybe, and then, and then you started beating up that lamp, and when you finally woke up, I swear, you were out of it, like, delusional, maybe, I don’t know, so-”  
He caught his breath, recovering after the long exposition. 

“... I just want to know who made you feel that scared. I wanna kick em in the throat.”  
RMS looked down with a worried expression, giving a slight chuckle at the irony. He stared at his hands, which were resting on each other, and silently contemplated over what to say. He knew it wasn’t healthy to keep it in, to let the nightmare stay unspoken, but how do you explain something like that?? How should he word it? He felt the other’s paw rest on his knee, which lead to him sighing to himself, and trying to carefully construct his thoughts.

“... I don’t think I really knew what was happening at first,” he started, letting one hand grip his wrist, “all I knew was that I was at a graveyard. And I was paying my respects. But only months after the person died… I think I thought of myself as a coward for not doing it sooner.” He felt a thumb rub against his femur, as if calming his nerves. He sighed, letting himself continue, “I went to place down my flowers, and I saw- I saw your name. Your name, it was on the tombstone.” He caught his breath, relieved to have gotten the worst out of this story, fixing his eyes on a steady point on his hands. “Y-your hands, they reached out from the ground, and they- they grabbed my wrists, and pulled me down, into your coffin.” He felt an extraordinary change of mood in the room as he continued, suddenly feeling panicked and cornered. “I saw your sk-skeleton, dude, you looked so dead, you called me an idiot, something started oozing from the ground, I couldn’t breathe- I couldn’t breathe, I- I can’t breathe-”

RMS was suddenly grabbing at his gem, feeling as though all of the air in the room was sucked out, as he felt a large mass lean against him in comfort. 

“Hey hey hey- breathe, breathe, deep breaths, deeeeep breaths-”  
He buried his skull into the other’s shoulder, gripping his shirt with a death grip, “Do you know how many times I think about you dying, Brandon? Do you?” He felt the other’s paw push down on his skull, furthering his head into his shoulder, as if trying to quiet him. “It’s sickening- mpph-” he muffled, as it was becoming increasingly harder to talk. He focused more on breathing, reminding himself that no, he wasn’t experiencing the nightmare all over again, that yes, he had his bear with him at his side again. 

“N- No more of that, ok? Just breathe, calm down, you’re alright…”   
Humiliated at himself for letting his imagination torment him like this, he stayed silent while allowing Brandon to scare away those nervous thoughts. 

“I’m not gonna let you go to work today, ok?”  
“... mhmm…”   
“We’re gonna talk later, ok?”  
“...”  
“Ok?” He tried, a bit gentler this time.  
“... mmhmmm…”   
“Alright, good… just calm down, I got you… my skeleton…”


End file.
